


Rë:BØЯИ

by Darksilversilhouette



Series: Syndir Guðs [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bestiality, Experimental Style English, Lots of symbolism?, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not an easy read, The Ainur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:13:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22217587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darksilversilhouette/pseuds/Darksilversilhouette
Summary: A name. Brought not on the wind, but thrum alongst the threads of Ëa. Calling.A summons.Maʒāyanūz.Helpless he was to answer.
Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Syndir Guðs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599343
Kudos: 15





	Rë:BØЯИ

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Axisunicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axisunicorn/gifts).



> This is an experiment conducted by the author to try and get a feel for the dynamic of these two characters that are my newest obsession. I didn't have a specific time frame in mind, so it could be during the time the Ainur lived in Almaren, or early Valinor. Also an experiment because I'm also not a native speaker and for me to go ahead and do what I did... I guess I could warn you to read at your own risk. For those who aren't deterred by the tags and warnings, I take full responsibility of the mistakes I made, grammatical and otherwise. I tried fixing as much as I could to the best of my knowledge and abilities, and I'm sorry for the rest that made it here...or for an entirely cringe-worthy read.
> 
> For Axisunicorn: I know this is several days early, but originally I wanted to give this to you in December due to everything that was gonna happen and happened, and now it seems January is a busy one too, so... That said, I hope you enjoy this as much as the odds are against it (and me by proxy, I guess).
> 
> Without further ado, everyone hope you enjoy!
> 
> P.S. There's a ton of notes at the end, so fair warning. This story is probably more notes than anything else really.

A name. Brought not on the wind, but thrum alongst the threads of Ëa. Calling.

A summons. 

_ Maʒāyanūz. _

A whisper. Or was it? What if the others heard it also? Was within him any ounce of caution left? More importantly, cared he? 

Helpless he was to answer.

All that was and all that was to be created became naught in his eyes as he rose in a warm zephyr; the more distance he put between himself and their commorancy, the more into the form of a gale he became, and yet, no match he was for the raging tempest whorling around him.

In the eye of a storm he was, still calm surrounded by puissance unbridled and Mighty Arising. And whilst he believed that harm him He would not, little knew he the ease with which he had gotten caught in His beguiling trap; his belief that all was well was grounded in naught.

Peradventure ‘twas a test of strength. Mayhap ‘twas a command that he release his ëala, and he did; the aethēr catching fire, and the colors of him painting the tempest rouge, golden, and bruised. ‘Twas then that Maʒāyanūz heard the rumble of His mirth, and just as unanticipatedly as the whirling winds had come, they dispersed. 

There he stood, as a naked flame, but his trial was far from ended. Akin to a cloud of smoke, stygian and coal black He descended, suffocating and suffusing on all sides, and in his mind was naught but His oleaginous thought:

_ Breathe it in and try not to die out and fizzle. _

And mayhap ‘twas through his determination that he metamorphosed into that which no smog could extinguish; into incandescent irradiance. His foe, however, was relentless in taunting:

_ Feel the tendrils of darkness, the spreading of taint it bringeth.  _

Doubt, ever the twain-edged blade. For if those around him hadn’t sown its seed within him, hold out he would have and realized his verity. Unbeknownst to him, the Mighty Arising had  _ seen _ , but a glimpse, and yet enough that was for Him to further his onslaught.

Maʒāyanūz, however, akin to that abhorrently sown seed yet far too dissimilar, fled from that which familiar was and sought refuge into what was close enough for comfort. A topiary he became, much in the fashion of Īeƀānana’s creations. Ignorant he was, or perhaps so certain of hearsay about the extent of the prowess of He who Arises in Might. Much to his surprise then, He also shed that which was wonted and came into the form of a climbing liana. The rasp of its wooden limbs he felt upon his bark, the seep of sap as its tendrils twisted and turned in their ever upward ascent, as its thorns prickled and pierced, and never had he felt that sensation of corporeal pain. 

Too much it was or haply the folly in his design he saw, for ere long the hungry flames of his fire engulfed that of their intertwined forms. Familiar ‘twas, and no less afflictive than those times Aʒūlēz dismantled his ill-begotten designs. To ashes he did turn, conceiving that akin to Mānawenūz’ phenixes he’d rise, but was sorely mistaken. In His  _ fist _ he was cradled, yet in His hold, gentillesse had no home. Puissance and pressure ‘twas from all sides, and no room left to budge. The trill of His mirth reverberated within and without, and  _ No way out thou hast, Maʒāyanūz.  _ And he knew that ‘twas true. No way but to change.  _ No way but to reshape. To reorganize and remake thyself. Stay in thy essence and a rare aspect acquire ye shall. _

Within him, the urge to preserve and persevere burnt equally bright; fulgider yet was the flame of his ëala. And it showed, for the crystal gem the Mighty Arising held was coruscant beyond measure. Ceaseless in his spirit, he made his resolve known:

_ “Then if smash I must, let it be so.” _

Ere aught could come to pass, akin to the stretch of chronology preceding the impact of a hammer against ore, all ceased. The symphony of time stilted nigh to a stop afore Him. Had he a fana akin to that of the Children of The One, the gelidest of ice would have wholly ensconced him save for his maw from which he knew He would leech more verbosity. The biting frore and the fleeting gentillesse that caressed his soul were as at odds as was the rumored nature of He who Arises in Might. 

For He had descended upon Ëa in power and majesty greater than any other, clad in ice and crowned with smoke and fire. And He was the flame that withers with heat and pierces with a deadly cold.

A caesura in the music of their colloquy. 

Too quiescent. 

So mute it resembled the ringing of a hammer against workpiece… 

Heightened and escalated… The sloshing of water in the slack tub- _ Nay _ , the static rush of the waterfalls of phelūn… a plunge into Ullubōz’ realm… 

_ …The flame that withers with heat and pierces with a deadly cold… _

_ …cold… _

…Akin to the stretch of chronology ere the impact of a hammer…

_ Think better, Maʒāyanūz. _

…against ore…

And thus, from the heart of that jewel bloomed an impurity, much akin to His bruited taint, that turned that scintillating crystal into darkened adamantite. Yet, unremitting as he was and ablaze in ëala, after having engulfed the paragon, the ore melted into rivulet gold…

_ ‘Tis thine intimate craft. Thou knowest how pliant a workpiece is underneath the smithy’s hands. How to shape, to twist, and to forge…  _

**_Feel_** **_the impact ‘tis to bestow th-Mine-ine knowledge!_**

‘Twas a crescendo of many viols and voices, of many strings and screams. Discord ‘twas, the myriad of visions fulminating afore him, a kaleidoscope, and even as he stood watch bewildered and mesmerized, within each and every one of them he was. Countless scenarios after the same image but in differing forms: that of a giant serpentine grappling with a beastly bird of night; At every turn, was a lesson, He who Arises in Might a constant in the midst of it all, His voice rising above all else as He bespoke. Twain creatures neither he nor any ayanūz had  _ seen _ or fathomed taking flight: magnificent beings, wrought from the depths of Ëa, wings that spread afar pinioning one another, insufflating smoke and breathing fire… And to imagine himself as one, to imitate the Mighty Arising…

The images vanished.

It began to rain.

_ Maʒāyanūz… Be not ashamed. _

Lento, aqua droplets transformed into falling stars, fractal and geodesic, marvelous in their pirouetting descent. 

_ No shame there is in learning. To emulate and to echo is to worship.  _

Nay! The One he revered, and so did all ayanūz… Mayhap the Mighty wurshipped not the One, but he wander astray would not.

_ And I  _ **_will_ ** _ have thee wurshipful any way, shape, or form. _

_ “ _ **_Nay!_ ** _ ” _

‘Twas burdensome to follow through, but secreting his ploy, he descended into the realm of Ullubōz at last. Carried alongst the stream, and with phelūn in  _ sight _ , into a mere he merged. Afeared he was of the sealord, for within the depths of those deeps was no dwelling for one that was wrought in flame; be it temporary or otherwise. Then mayhap in his disquiet ‘twas that he coalesced into concretion, with his ëala still ablaze yet smouldering as he awaited. In his belief, mistaken though unbeknownst to him, He who Arises in Might venture further could not. As it was, through the looking glass of the water surface, the reflection of His fana emerged at the shore.

Towering and dark He was, as a mountain that wades in the sea and has its head above the clouds. Clad in ice and crowned with smoke and fire. 

_ Didst thou perceive to have me deceived? _

With the diaphony of his amusement trembled the fabrics of Ëa itself.

_ Didst thou believe this realm beyond my dominion? Nay; mistaken thou art. For ‘tis I who erected the grinding ice. Aye! Xellekharaškē is mine creation! And now thou as well shall feel the puissance of a matter as thin, as pliant and harmless as ullu!  _

_ …pierces with a deadly cold…  _

Ere the reminiscence of scintillating fractals could give way to jagged glaciers, Maʒāyanūz broke form and rose. Aided by the sealord he was or by Oššai belike, for it was in a crestful wave; but once met the land, ‘twas no more. With the pearls of froth subsiding in his wake, he ran, phelūn in…  **_Sight?_ **

‘Twas then he realized his fana was akin to the creatures that dwelt among Arǭmēz’ beasts; but not quite. Wolverine, yet more monstrous. Nimble on his paws, with the grain of soil spreading underneath; the bow of stalks of grass and the _crunch_ of undergrowth beneath his feet. The auditory knowledge of the wind wailing and whistling by, the firm caress of it in his fur, the lashing of it, of the branches of Īeƀānana’s frondescence against his face… 

Against his muzzle he felt the puffs of his own breath, and the coniferous savor deep within, in every inhale. The exhilaration of experiencing the corporeal terrene, the things it offered  _ him _ , so freely given, material or immaterial, burst forth in the single note of a howl. 

The scenery galloped by, a watercolor of sights, of synesthesia… The paroxysm of hying unfettered transubstantiated to the thrill of _the hunt, for captivating was the redolence_ _of power, of unsuspecting prey._

_ Instinct.  _

Maʒāyanūz knew not its name.

_ Relish the tang of ichor in your maw.  _

_ Feel the part of soft, raw flesh, tearing,  _ **_yielding_ ** _ to your gnashing teeth.  _

_ Witness the dying of the embers of Flame Imperishable in its afeared eyes.  _

_ Listen to the faint, fading stutter of a failing heart…  _

_ At last… _

**_Thou art mine!_ **

In the form of a colossal beast He descended upon him, another dærrækha, grappling in the corse of what-has-been. 

_ Well done Maʒāyanūz,  _ **_fight_ ** _ , for there is a thrill to fighting, to unleashing your inner turmoil. _

Wrestle he did to no avail, for his adversary mounted him facilely and without preamble. Mighty arising He was and unbridled in His puissance and ferity. Violated and desecrated, and he struggled still, and in his thrashing incensed Him to further savagyne. 

Parting His ghastly maw whilst parrying the claws seeking to rob His sight, He swooped, canines bared, and buried razor sharp teeth in the thick fur of his mane. But ‘twas not to kill, even as He bore down on his gullet with His own paw, annihilation was not His aim. He who Arises in Might pinned him there, underneath, scenting the frenetic vitality and the prospect of death; savoring the heady burst of ichor and the glimpse of Flame Imperishable beyond the barely-there veils of flaming eyes. 

‘Twas enow.

Unhurryedly, He withdrew, and no scene had been more exquisite, more magnificent than that of the surrender on Maʒāyanūz’ visage afore Him…  _ Nay.  _ Not Maʒāyanūz. Not anymore.

_ Mayāyanūz. _

His summons,  _ nay _ , His obsecration was not greeted forthwith. Thus anew the Mighty Arising impetrated.

_ Mayāyanūz. _

At last, those lids wrought from alabaster did nictitate, and flaming irises beheld His fana: adorned by frosty fractals was the curtain of nightfall that shrouded them, rivaling the beauty of Barādāz’ star-studded welkin. In severe contrast was the deathly pallor of his corporeal form with both the Mighty’s obsidian and smoky mane and the void of his eyes. ‘Twas then that of his own bestowed fana he became aware, in the mirror unlight of stygian depths: a fair form ‘twas, bequeathed in the vision of the Children of the One, follicular rušur crowning his head. 

Conjoint they were still, and the further, the harder Belekhōrōz buried himself within that inveigling cradle, the deeper Mayāyanūz dove down and plunged within Him; much akin to His own journeys and travail within the Void. Explore the unlight of His ëala he tried, but light as he was, trapped he got in the event horizon of the blackhole that was He, never to escape. And when he resurfaced, ‘twas as though from the deepest of deeps, reborn anew, meeting the frothing waves of Belekhōrōz against the shore with the molten lava of his gold. And from their intermingled mist settled a fog swathing the land of pines…whereupon amongst the darkness of its lofty evergreens, amidst a glade of wild stalks of grass, together they lay in each other’s embrace.

Around them, the echo of the symphony of all that they had created reverberated throughout the warp and weft of all Ëa.

**Author's Note:**

> A glossary of terms used in this one, but in order of appearance rather than alphabet: 
> 
> (Q. stands for Quenya, V. stands for Valarin, the language of the Ainur, and VBD. stands for attempted Valarin by yours truly _heavily_ based on other languages crafted by J.R.R.Tolkien, VV. Some Valarin terms on ValarinVentures tumblr)
> 
> Ëa (Q.) To be, the word spoken by the One by which he brought the universe into actuality. I took it to mean existence in the context of the story.  
> Maʒāyanūz (VBD.) Servant of Ainur or Ainur hand, could also mean Wielder of holy. Basically Mairon's name before he became Mairon.  
> Ëalar (Q.) being, spirit (not incarnate). My take on it here, the original form of the Ainur in Ëa.  
> Īeƀānana (VBD.) Yavanna, giver of fruits.  
> Aʒūlēz (V.) Aulë, Ainu of crafting and smithing, spouse of Yavanna, the Maker.  
> Mānawenūz (V.) Manwë, Blessed Being, Melkor's brother and Lord of the Ainur.  
> Fana (Q.) Shape or figure, bodily form of angelic spirit. Basically a raiment or veil they could change at will.  
> Ullubōz (V.) Ainu of all waters, the Pourer.  
> Ullu (V.) Water.  
> Ayanūz (V.) Ainur, holy ones, angelic spirits. One of the order of the Valar and Maiar, made before Eä.  
> Phelūn (V.) Dwelling.  
> Xellekharaškē (VBD.) Helcaraxë, Grinding Ice.  
> Oššai (V.) One of the greatest of the Maia, master of the seas that wash the shores of Middle Earth.  
> Arǭmēz (V.) Oromë, The Huntsman of the Valar.  
> Dærrækha (VBD.) Wolf.  
> Mayāyanūz (VBD.) Admirable Ainu, or basically Mairon.  
> Barādāz (VBD. & VV.) Varda, Queen of the Valar and stars, spouse of Manwë.  
> Rušur (V.) Fire  
> Belekhōrōz (VBD. & VV.) Mighty Arising, He who Arises in Might, Melkor.
> 
> I'm sorry if there were any terms I missed.


End file.
